


The open door

by AsphodeleSauvage



Category: Supernatural
Genre: First Kiss, Friends to Lovers, Idiots in Love, Love Confessions, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-04
Updated: 2020-12-04
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:07:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27879590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AsphodeleSauvage/pseuds/AsphodeleSauvage
Summary: Charlie is sure that Castiel is in love with Dean, Dean disagrees because there's no way in Hell Cas can feel that way. The solution to settle their conflict? Easy enough: Dean just has to ask Cas.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 24
Kudos: 223





	The open door

**Author's Note:**

> Ok so this is messy and un-beta'ed and not at all what I wanted it to be originally. But these days any Destiel content is good enough so here it is.
> 
> It was directly inspired by this post: https://heller-jensen.tumblr.com/post/635977141177237504/au-concept-dean-cas-is-not-in-love-with-me  
> Actually I took this exact plot idea with the exact same words and I wrote it and the only difference is that it's not an AU. Someone should probably write an AU about it though.

Dean loved Charlie. He really did. What was not to love about Charlie? She was witty and clever, fun to be around, nice and supportive. Every time their paths met Dean was sure to have a delightful day -- either because they were LARPing or binging series together, or because Charlie brought an extravagant hunt with her. Charlie was the little sister he never had. 

The thing was, the title of 'little sister' was fitting for another reason. At times, Charlie could be _fucking annoying_. 

"Cas is in love with you."

And that was how their _Game of Thrones_ marathon was ruined. 

She said that innocently, as if that was a light-hearted and completely normal thing to say. (Which, of course, it was _not_.) Her eyes revealed the truth though. She was watching him expectantly, trying (and failing) to hide her smirk by taking a sip from her bottle of beer. 

Dean would have loved to say that his reaction was mature, level-headed, and completely indifferent. As it was, though, the beer he was drinking went the wrong way and he choked. 

"I'm sorry, what -- what in _hell_ did you just say?" he blurted once he stopped coughing. 

Charlie gave him a small, condescending smile. Dean hated this conversation already. Also, Charlie had just watch him choke to death and she hadn’t done a thing to help him. She was _enjoying_ herself. 

"I said, Cas is in love with you." And she wiggled her eyebrows, looking far too amused for her own good. 

Dean's heart missed a bit. "Shut up. He could hear you."

"Awww, you don't want him to hear? That's cute!" Charlie beamed, honest to God looking delighted with this piece of information. 

"Well, of course I don't want him to-- you'd embarrass him!" Dean splurted, trying to ignore how much his cheeks were burning.

Charlie snorted. “Sure, _he_ ’d be embarrassed.”

“Yeah. He’d be. Totally. Charlie, you can’t-- you just _can’t_ go and claim that people are in love with someone, okay?”

“Why, if it’s true?” 

“It’s not.”

“It is.”

“It’s not.”

“Is.”

“Not.”

“Is.”

“Not.”

“ _Dean_.” She rolled her eyes. “Is that so hard to believe, that Cas could be in love with you?”

Dean’s traitorous heart leapt in his chest, and he hated it for doing that. He hated how wild Cas made his heart. The wilder it was, the harder it was for Dean to hide… the Thing. That Thing that he felt when he shouldn’t. Because, well, that was absurd. It was doomed. Wasn’t it?

“Yeah,” he scoffed, trying his best to sound dismissive, to make the sheer idea that _Cas could be in love with him_ sound completely nuts and not at all like something Dean wanted and couldn’t have. 

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why do you believe he’s not in love with you?”

Dean scoffed again and took a swig of his beer to give himself more time to answer that. “Well, why do you believe that he is?”

Charlies shrugged. Her eyes were knowing -- _too_ knowing. That was a gaze that knew too much and hurt Dean too much as well. She knew _nothing_. 

“I see it in his eyes,” she said. “The way he looks at you, like you’re his everything and more, but he can’t have what he wants so he settles for just loving you from afar and enjoying every single second with you. And there’s the way he smiles for you, only for you. The way his whole body is always turned towards you even when there’s a lot of people in the room. The way he wants to touch you but he doesn’t dare.” She took another sip of her beer. “The way you’re the most important thing for him and he abandoned everything for you again and again and he became who he really is because of you. That’s true love, bitch.”

Her words made Dean’s heart ache and bleed. “Stop it,” he said, his voice sounding half broken and half angry.

Charlie’s eyes on him grew full of pity, so he scolded his features into something smooth and unconcerned, because he couldn’t let her _see_ . “You should stop reading fanfiction,” he said lightly. “You’re reading too much into all of it. It’s just--- it’s just the way Cas is. He’s very _intense_. All the time.”

Charlie shook her head in disbelief. “Of course. That’s who Cas is. He rebels against Heaven and renounces his family and his army just for you, and, that’s, what? _Normal_? Because he’s intense like that?”

“We’re family,” Dean protested. “I never said it was normal -- it’s not, he shouldn’t have done all that -- but Sam and I… we’re his family,” he concluded lamely. “That’s what family does.”

“Yeah, no. I don’t buy it. It’s because you and I ‘share a more profound bound.’”

"He said that before he knew Sam for real. It’s just-- angel speech for family. Found family and all that.”

“Yeah, because Cas behaves with Sam _e-xac-tly_ the way he behaves with you. Uh-uh.” She threw a pillow at Dean. “He doesn’t. You’re special.”

“I’m his best friend,” Dean argued. 

“Why do you refuse to see it?” she asked, putting her beer away and facing Dean, arms crossed. “Why do you refuse to even believe that he _could_ feel something for you?”

“Well, he’s an angel,” Dean said, trying to remain calm and dispassionate, as if this topic didn’t hit home at all. “Angels don’t feel emotions.”

“Cas has tons of emotions.”

“Not the way humans feel.”

“His own siblings rejected him for feeling like a human, Dean.” 

“Yes, but… angels don’t feel… _attraction_.”

“Gabriel and Balthazar sure did.”

Dean hated Chuck for writing the fucking Winchester gospel, he hated the books for being accurate, and he hated Charlie for fucking reading them. 

“They’re exceptions.”

“And Cas isn’t an exception?”

“He doesn’t feel… like _that_.”

“I mean, maybe he’s ace or something,” she said, rolling her eyes again, “but he definitely has romantic feelings.”

“He never had any relationships!”

“He kissed Meg and he slept with April and wanted to date Nora,” Charlie countered, cocking an eyebrow at him. 

“Yeah, _women_.”

“Just because he never showed interest in men doesn’t mean he isn’t attracted to them.” She winked at him, and, fuck, that was directed at _Dean_ , not at Cas. 

“His relationships never led anywhere,” Dean argued, trying to ignore the point that Charlie just made because thinking of Cas being attracted to men was… a lot. It was too much. As it was, he was already making a lot of effort not to look angry and flustered and bothered.

“Yeah, because he is in love with _you_ , dumbass!” Charlie exclaimed, exasperated.

“He’s not!” 

“How would you know?” Charlie scoffed.

“Well-- well I just know it!” Dean said. He tried to think of an argument, but he had none, except the certainty that Cas _couldn’t_ be in love with him. There was no way he was. It was just… impossible.

“Give me reasons,” Charlie said animatedly. “I want proof, Winchester.”

“He-- uh-- he would have said something.”

“What if he’s the shy kind? You know, the kind that never tells their crush what they feel because they’re terrified of being rejected?” She rose her eyebrows, looking at Dean intently. “For some people silence is safety. You know that, Dean.”

“Cas is not shy,” Dean cut in abruptly, because Charlie’s words hit too close to him and he couldn’t let her see that. 

“What would you know, Winchester.” 

“Well, he sure wasn’t shy when he kissed Meg and slept with April.”

“Whoa, calm down, green-eyed monster,” Charlie laughed. “The thing is, you don’t have proof that he _isn’t_ in love with you.”

“You have no proof he is.”

Charlie’s lips curved into a sly smile and she slowly outstretched her hand towards the coffee table where she had left her phone. “How about I ask Sam and Rowena and Garth and all the rest? I’m sure _they_ have proof.”

“Don’t bring them into your conspiracy!”

“It’s not a conspiracy, it’s the truth,” she said in a sing-sang voice. “Unless, of course, you’re afraid of the truth.”

“I’m not _afraid_.” He did his best to sneer as if all this conversation was ridiculous (and it was. Yes. Of course it was! Why were they even speaking about it, that was stupid, so stupid…). “The truth is that Cas isn’t in love with me.”

“Yeah, _this_ truth would be comforting, huh? It’s the real truth that frightens you.” Before Dean even had time to process what she had said (what did it even _mean_?) she brightened up and said, “You know what? We shouldn’t fight about this.”

“No, we shouldn’t,” Dean agreed, relieved that they’d _finally_ go back to whether or not Jon Snow would make the good decision. 

“We have a very easy way to sort it all out,” Charlie said. “You just have to ask him!” She smiled proudly at Dean as if she’d come up with the solution to world poverty.

“Ask who?” Dean was confused.

“Ask Cas, of course.” She gestured towards the door, and, _oh, fuck, what if Cas had somehow heard it all?_ “He’s reading in the library. Go and ask him. Then we’ll know.”

“I-- I can’t do that!” Dean forced out a laugh as if it was all a big joke. “That’s not something you _ask_ , Charlie. What will he think?”

“If you’re right, he’ll think nothing,” she shrugged, sitting back on the couch and grabbing her beer. “He’s an angel, that’s what you said. He doesn’t understand these things, right? If he has a question just tell him it was a game of truth and dare with me. I’m weird, he won’t think twice about it.”

“That’s not something you _do_ ,” Dean protested again. His hands were trembling now; he curled them into fists to hide it. 

“Why not?” she answered nonchalantly, looking straight at the TV as if she couldn’t care less what Dean did. “Ask him. What do you have to lose? You’re convinced he isn’t in love with you, right? Then you’ll know for sure and you’ll get rid of any doubt the Big Bad Charlie put into your mind.” She looked up at him. “Unless you’re afraid he’ll say no and you’ll lose all hope.”

Dean recoiled as if he had been slapped. Then he let out a big laugh that sounded false even to his own ears -- but his ears were ringing, so he wasn’t sure he was hearing things right. 

“Or maybe,” she said with an innocent smile that didn’t reach her knowing eyes, “you’re afraid he’ll say yes?”

“I’m -- I’m not afraid of anything,” Dean protested. He stood up, rolled his shoulders, tried to look confident and not at all upset by this conversation. “He’ll say no, anyway. I’m right and I know it.”

“Prove it then, tiger.” Charlie rose her beer in a mock toast.

“ _Fine_ ,” Dean said, and he stormed out of the room.

He slowed down his pace as soon as he was out of Charlie’s earshot, though. Surely he couldn’t ask Cas _that_. That’s not something you asked your best friend! 

Maybe he could just… not ask. Come back and pretend that he has asked and that Cas had said no and that he had found the idea as silly as Dean did, and that’d be the end of it. Charlie would see how stupid her even _thinking_ that Cas _might_ be in love with Dean. 

Except that Charlie would check, wouldn’t she? She’d ask Cas, and she’d find out Dean had chickened out, and he’d never hear the end of it. Or maybe she’d ask Cas herself. Dean shuddered. That would be even _worse_.

Better be done with it. He’d ask, pretending it was nothing, and Cas would say ‘no,’ because for him it really meant nothing, and Dean would smile and laugh and say ‘okay, cool’ and pretend it was nothing.

And no one would need to know that sometimes Dean wanted to grab Cas’s hand and run away from their life and hide in a place where Dean could be free to love Cas all he wanted. No one needed to know that when they were eating burgers in a shitty diner or in the Bunker Dean wanted to lean in Cas’s space and kiss him, or that when they were watching TV together at night he wanted to hug Cas and drown in his warmth, or that sometimes he wanted to sneak into Cas’s room, sometimes not even to make love, sometimes just to sleep next to him and drink in his breathing and enjoy the simple happiness of being close to the person you lov--

Nope. None the wiser. No one would need to know.

Of course, from then on when Dean would dream of these things he wanted (these terrifying and comforting things), he would have to remember that it was impossible and that Cas didn’t feel that way. The sweet ignorance of not knowing _for sure_ would be gone. Of course, it wasn’t as if Dean had ever harbored any hope… he knew it was impossible... but there was comfort and hope in silence. Silence left the door ajar just enough to think you could maybe one day cross the threshold and have every forbidden fantasy that was hidden behind. 

Well. Maybe that was for the better. A ‘no’ would be better for him, and for Cas. He would be able to stop dreaming of impossible things. He would stop thinking unnamable, shameful things about his best friend. He would be free from wanting and hoping… and Cas would be free of Dean’s stupid dreams too.

Yeah. All for the better.

It wasn’t as if he had a choice anyway, he thought as he arrived in front of Castiel. 

The angel was sitting at one of the tables of the library, engrossed in an old-looking book. Probably something about the latest cases that had been popping up in the country. Dean said witches, Sam thought demigods, Cas said angels, and Charlie thought fairies. Of course Cas would spend the day trying to find out more, because that was who Cas was for you. Always trying to help humans as much as he could. 

Dean was overwhelmed by a wave of fondness, that he tried to suppress a little harder than he usually did. It was all doomed, it was for sure now.

“Hello, Dean,” Castiel said, looking up from his book as soon as he saw Dean. 

He put the book aside and smiled at Dean -- one of those soft little secret smiles that Dean sometimes liked to think was just for him; one of those discreet smiles that lit up the whole room and made Dean feel lighter and made him want to kiss Cas, or perhaps to caress Cas’s lips, or just to let the dangerous Words out. 

Dean had thought he had found peace when he had finally accepted that he felt That for Cas. As it turned out, it was a sweeter form of torture the name of which he wasn’t allowed to speak. And now the torture was about to end. Another would begin; not that Charlie should _ever_ know that. It was just a dare between friends. It meant nothing.

“Hi, Cas,” he said. His voice was hoarse. 

“How is the ‘TV marathon’ with Charlie going?” Castiel asked. Dean smiled at the implied quotation marks. 

Damn, Cas was making it so difficult. Cas always made things difficult without even knowing it. But he also made things simpler, sometimes. It was also so easy to feel good and happy and loved and worthy and hopeful when Cas was there.

“It’s going well,” Dean answered noncommittally. It wasn’t as if he could say, ‘she sent me to ask you if by any chance you wouldn’t be secretly in love with me, haha.’

He licked his lips nervously. “Hey, Cas, I wanted to ask you something.”

It was hard to fake a cocky smile and a dismissive tone of voice, but Dean was used to fake not wanting things. The words still left a bitter taste in his mouth, and he prayed that Cas wouldn’t look too close, wouldn’t look him in the eye, because he was sure the truth was there for him to see. If Cas saw the sadness in his eyes, he would have questions. He would wonder. And maybe he would know that Dean felt things for him and that’d make everyone very uncomfortable. The only thing worse than Cas saying ‘no’ was Cas knowing. 

“Yes?” Cas asked, perking up, attentive as always. 

Dean opened his mouth, but the words wouldn’t come. There were words Dean couldn’t say because he had tamed them too well and they were too afraid to come out in the open. He had thought ‘I love you’ and ‘I’m attracted to men’ and ‘you’re everything to me, Cas’ were the only words, but apparently there were other words as well.

“Cas, are you in love with me?”

There. The words were said. There was no coming back. 

Dean braced himself for the rejection to come (because Cas would never hurt him on purpose, but Cas had no way of knowing that his ‘no’ would be a rejection). He couldn’t look Cas in the eyes, perhaps because he was afraid Cas would see the truth, or perhaps because he couldn’t bear to see the lack of feeling in Cas’s eyes as he said ‘no.’

What kind of ‘no’ would it be? Would it be a puzzled ‘no’? An amused ‘no’? A ‘no, that’s ridiculous’? A ‘no, why?’? A ‘no, never, not in a million years’? A scoff? A thorough interrogation? 

In the seconds that followed the question, plenty of possible outcomes came and hit Dean right in the heart. He had plenty of time to wonder how his heart would be broken. It was almost taking _too_ long. Couldn’t Cas just rip off the band-aid? Definite rejection would be better than this neverending waiting, at this point. 

That was when Dean realised. Why was it taking so much time?

Why hadn’t Cas answered already? 

Why was there no ‘no’? Why was there only silence?

Dean didn’t want to look up, but he _had_ to.

So he looked up.

And met Cas’s wide eyes.

Cas was looking straight at him, completely frozen. His eyes were wide with something Dean couldn’t quite read -- was it _horror_? 

Oh fuck, had Cas seen the truth and understood Dean’s feelings? Was he horrified that his best friend, his brother of sorts, was in love with him?

Fuck it, that was worse than anything Dean had imagined.

Cas was looking like a deer caught in the headlights. And then, Cas broke eye contact. He looked away, averting Dean’s gaze and looking fascinated by the corner of the table. 

And he still didn’t answer.

Dean didn’t know what to do. He wanted to ask again, to insist, to run away, to laugh and say it was a joke, to kiss Cas, to admit the truth and be done with it. In the end, he just waited here. He couldn’t move, and he couldn’t speak as the silence stretched out and the question was left hanging between them.

 _Just say it,_ he wanted to say. _Say it and be done with it. Don’t be afraid of hurting me. I just want it to end._

Silence, silence, silence. Silence was a door left ajar just enough for him to hope, and Dean hated it. Sometimes silence was hope, sometimes silence was safety, and sometimes silence was torture. This silence? This silence was all of those at the same time.

What if Cas--

No. There was no way. Charlie couldn’t be right. Silence was his weapon and his protection, not Castiel’s. Cas had never said anything because-- because there was nothing to say, not for other outlandish reasons. And right now Cas was saying nothing because… because what?

Because he was horrified with Dean?

Or because…

No, because he _knew._ Charlie couldn’t be right. Impossible. 

“Cas?” he asked softly. 

_Help me out, buddy. Just say it._

He saw as Cas kept looking at the (rather boring) table too intently for it to be natural. He was still, very still -- stiller even than when they had met and Cas always stood straight and unmoving. This was a look Dean had forgotten about Cas. He was far too used to _his_ Cas, who was affectionate and liberal with hugs and stared at Dean too much and had no sense of personal space. (Dean hated it only because he always wanted _more_. He was selfish; he was never satisfied with what he had, even when what he had already made him happy.)

There was no end to that silence, and Dean hated that just like Dean hated Cas’s lack of boundaries. Too much hope and too much wanting only for the door to close in the end.

The silence seemed painful for Cas too, though. The way his jaw was set… the wildness in his eyes, even if Cas were forcing them not to move… the way Cas had seemingly stopped breathing…

Maybe Cas needed Dean to help him out a little. And, well, everything for Cas, right? Even if it didn’t make Dean happy.

“It’s a very long silence, buddy,” Dean said, clearing his throat and trying to sound… 

Okay, he didn’t know what he wanted to sound like, and he definitely didn’t know how his voice came across either. It just sounded hoarse and a little breathless.

Still silence. 

“You can-- you can just tell me, Cas,” he said softly. “It’s okay. I promise it’s okay. I--” Dean didn’t know what to say. _I know you don’t love me back. Not in a romantic way at least. It’s okay, I know it already, I expect nothing of you, let’s just… move on._ In the end, he settled for, “It won’t change a thing between us, you know that?”

Silence still stretched out for what seemed like centuries, and Dean wondered if Cas even heard him. 

“How did you know?” Cas’s voice finally came, low and nervous and small. Dean had never heard Cas talk in so low a voice. _Never_.

Cas still wasn’t looking at him. ‘How did I know _what_?’ Dean almost asked. But when Cas shoved his hands into the pockets into the pockets of his trench-coat -- something he never did either -- it hit him. 

That was -- all of Cas’s behaviour -- that was exactly how Dean had felt inside when Charlie had looked at him as if she knew, and how he was feeling right now as he waited for Cas to reject him.

Cas was looking embarrassed. Caught in the act. _Terrified_.

Impossible. No. It couldn’t be-- it was Dean’s fancy, nothing more.

“Cas?” he said. He had wanted to say something, but he had forgotten what and the word came out as a question instead. Dean didn’t know what the question was. _What the fuck is happening?_ , maybe. 

But Cas was silent again, and all of a sudden Dean _knew_ , because there could only be one reason for such a silence.

_Oh._

The door was opening, little by little, the impossible becoming true.

“Cas,” he said in a very different tone. “Are you in love with me?”

This time, his voice was softer. It was like touching a bubble: it was new and shiny and beautiful and adorned with thousands of colours like a rainbow of possibilities, but it was fragile and if you touched it wrong it would explode and vanish and leave only regret behind. 

But if you touched it right… then it would allow you in. 

The thing was to be daring enough.

Cas still wouldn’t meet his eye.

“I’m sorry, Dean, if I gave you the impression that I was-- I didn’t mean to push my affections onto you-- I promise it won’t impact our relationship--”

These weren’t answers, not really, and Cas was still hiding behind silence. Because, as Dean had found out, silence wasn’t just not saying anything, it was also skirting around the real thing. 

Dean could barely hear Cas over the sound of his heart beating furiously as if it’d just been kicked alive again. There were butterflies in his stomach and he felt hot everywhere and his mouth was dry and his palms were sweaty, because Cas _reciprocated_.

“I can keep my unrequited feelings for myself, Dean, I prom--”

Why keep silent when you could just say it? 

“They’re not unrequited.”

The words rang loudly in the abyss between them. Even the echoes of Cas’s empty words stopped short when the words left Dean’s mouth. 

And Cas’s eyes found their way back to Dean’s. 

They were wide still, but with surprise and flickering hope this time. As wide as the door that was open before them now.

The two of them were speechless for a different reason now.

“Cas, are you in love with me?” Dean asked for the third time.

He needed an answer. He _needed_ it.

“Yes,” Cas said. 

Dean closed his eyes as the word rang in his ears. _Yes. Yes. Yes._ There was Cas’s ‘yes’ -- soft and hesitant, an admission and a question -- and Dean’s inner ‘yes’ -- euphoric and hopeful, a victory and a possibility. 

“Dean,” said Cas. “Are _you_ in love with me?”

It sounded as if Cas couldn’t believe it -- as if he was asking only because Dean’s behaviour was too puzzling and didn’t make sense unless, maybe… It was a cautious interrogation, a leap into faith. 

Cas looked as if he was barely breathing.

For one moment, it seemed as if the words couldn’t get out. Dean had tucked them too safely inside him and they were still too shy and too frightened to be thrown into the open. But Dean wanted to cross the threshold because on the other side there was Cas and all the things he wanted, come alive and true. 

He wouldn’t be throwing the Words into the open, no; he would be giving them to Cas, Cas who loved him back, and the Words would soon be safely tucked away -- but in Cas’s heart this time. 

“Yes,” Dean eventually answered.

Cas smiled. Dean smiled too. He felt giddy and frightened at the same time. _Cas was in love with him._ They could have it -- if they chose to. They could-- he couldn’t even begin to imagine what they _could_ do: it was all too much. 

“So, hum. How did you… know?” Cas asked. 

“Know?”

“That I’m in love with you.” The words came with more confidence this time.

“Oh. Uh.” Dean felt very embarrassed and self-conscious this time. It was all so stupid. “I mean-- I didn’t know. I thought you weren’t in love with me, actually. That’s why I was asking, actually. To prove to Charlie-- well, uh. Yeah.”

“Are my feelings that a problem?” Cas frowned. “Did you not want to hear that--”

“No! Not at all! I don’t care about Charlie-- it was a stupid thing she made me do-- Don’t think about it. She was right, is all.”

Cas’s lips curved into a small smile. “She is unusually perceptive.”

“Don’t tell her that or I’ll never hear the end of it.”

“I’m sorry she was right and I proved you wrong.” Cas stood up. His hands were still in his pockets, but even from where he was standing he could see that they were balled into fists. It made Dean want to seize these hands and caress them until the nervous tension was soothed and gone. 

Maybe he was allowed to, now.

He reached out a hand, grabbed Cas’s elbow softly in a question rather than in demand -- _stay?_ He knew Cas had stood up to leave and avoid whatever was coming. He knew what Cas was feeling -- that it couldn’t be true, and that he’d rather not be here when it all fell down.

“Don’t be sorry,” he croaked, forcing the words out of his dry mouth. “I’m glad I was wrong.”

Cas turned on his heels until he was facing Dean, and all of a sudden they were face to face, their chests almost touching but not quite, closer than they’d ever been unless one of them was dying.

“Dean,” Cas started to say.

“Cas.

“Do you--”

“Yeah.”

“Would you like to--”

“Hell yeah.”

They both needed words, but there were also times when they didn’t them at all.

They both leaned in and their lips touched -- barely, because it wasn’t a kiss, it was a question. _Is it alright? Do you still want it? Is it okay if I want more? Can I be yours?_

Dean pulled away, ready for Cas to tell him ‘you know, I think I was wrong, we’re just best friends and nothing more, feelings are terribly complicated,’ but all he saw was his own dread mirrored in Cas’s eyes. 

They were idiots.

“More?” he asked.

“More,” Cas nodded.

“How-- how much more?”

“Everything,” Cas said seriously. “I love every part of you. And I want everything with you.” He looked down for a second. “If you want to, that is.”

Dean answered him with another kiss.

* * *

Charlie elbowed Sam in the ribs. 

“See? You spend years trying to get their head out of their asses and I solve the problem in what, twenty minutes? Say I’m the best.”

“Charlie.”

“Say it!”

“Charlie, you are the best,” Sam complied, rolling his eyes.

“Great. Don’t forget, you owe me fifty bucks.” 

They looked in silence at Dean and Castiel, who hadn’t stopped kissing. “Idiots,” Charlie snorted.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed it!


End file.
